30 Smiles: Martha Jones
by Veritas Found
Summary: Unofficial. Soap and Toothpaste and Home. It doesn't smell familiar and safe and home, but she supposes that's why it's death.
1. Right up His Alley

**Title:** "Right up His Alley"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Martha Jones

**Challenge:** 30 Smiles

**Theme / Prompt:** #27 (Pride; High and Mighty)

**Word Count:** 1,051

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** "If we're being honest, then, I can't say I was surprised when they said they knew you," she said. "Makes sense though, doesn't it? Talking heads in concrete slabs're right up your alley, aren't they?"

**Notes:** Post-S3; set during the bit where Martha's s'pposed to be working at Torchwood before returning to the Doc.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Right up His Alley"**_

"I had an interesting patient today," Martha said, balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she sniffed a container of Chinese. With a grimace she chucked it in the bin and resumed her search of something edible, pushing back more cartons just like it in her fridge.

"Oh?" she heard the Doctor ask from the other side. She opened an old plastic container to find a pasta dish inside. With a shrug she walked over to the microwave and popped it in, setting it for just under two minutes.

"Yeah," she said, leaning back on the counter and watching as the container was rotated. "Kind of funny, really – said they knew you."

"Did they, now?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled by a familiar banging. She could see him, in her mind, leaning over to pound on something on the console with that plastic hammer of his. He never could just do one thing at a time, could he?

"Yeah," she said. "Girl named Ursula – she came in with her boyfriend Elton. Had a bit of a head cold."

"Did she? Well that's too – oh, hold on," she bit her lip against the laughter, grinning as she heard him stop. "Clever, Martha Jones – very clever!"

"I thought so," she said as the microwave sounded. She popped open the door and removed her dinner, wincing as the plastic burnt her hand. She slipped her uninjured hand under her shirt and grabbed the other edge, using her other hand to grab a fork from a nearby drawer. "I take it you remember them now?"

"'Course I do! Elton and Ursula – went up against an Abzorbalof a few years back. Part of a group that was trying to track me down. Elton had the genius idea of getting to me through Jackie, and that really set Rose off – kept yelling at him for 'upsetting her mum'. Jackie deserved it, mind you – never was too fond of that woman," he said, and she smiled at his prattling. "Ursula was absorbed, but I was able to save her – well, her head, at least – when they broke the limitation field and the Abzorbalof melted. He was absorbed by the Earth, and I, using my brilliant brains and amazing sonic screwdriver, was able to put her head in that block. So they're together now – happy ending, right? I'm good, right?"

"Absolute genius," she said, smiling at how elated he sounded. "Not at all full of yourself."

"Well, geniuses can't afford to be modest – and there's no need for it if you're just being honest, and I'm always honest!" he said, and she laughed.

"If we're being honest, then, I can't say I was surprised when they said they knew you," she said, and she heard him grunt in response. She rolled her eyes and popped a shrimp into her mouth. "Makes sense though, doesn't it? Talking heads in concrete slabs're right up your alley, aren't they?"

"I feel I should be insulted," he said, and she grinned again. The grin wavered as she looked at the noodles circled on her fork, a thought coming back to her.

"They…they wanted me to tell you sorry," she said.

"For what?" he asked, and she sighed.

"Well, like you said – you met them with Rose, right? They said they saw her name on the list of the dead after the war at Canary Wharf," she said, and she heard him freeze. A part of her wanted to sigh at that; he'd multitask his way through an entire conversation, but mention Rose just once and he was still as ice. "They went to her funeral – her and her mum's. They wanted me to tell you how sorry they were. Said they knew you cared for her."

"I didn't go to her funeral, and I don't think I would have gone to Jackie's," he said, and she smiled a bit at that. He had told her shortly after their encounter with Dr. Lazarus all about Jackie Tyler and just why he should always stay away from mothers, including her own Francine Jones. "Didn't see the point, not with her still being alive and all. Besides, I was busy trying to send her a message – didn't have time for funerals."

"You live in a time machine," she told him coolly, and she heard him catch his breath. She sighed, knowing that wasn't what he had wanted to hear. "Point is, I told them about that. Her not being dead, that is. Well, what I know of it. Told them she was alive in another universe and couldn't come back. They said sorry for that, too."

"Wasn't their fault," he mumbled, and she shrugged, even though she knew he couldn't see it. She took a bite from her noodles, careful not to drop the phone as she swallowed.

"You know…" she started, unsure of how exactly to say what she wanted, "Meeting them, and Jack, and other people that knew her…sometimes I wish I could have. She sounds amazing."

"She was fantastic," he said, and she smiled at the smile she could hear in his voice. "Absolutely brilliant. You would've got on great with her."

"As long as she wasn't a talking head in a concrete slab," she said, and she winced as she heard him toss the hammer, trying her best to stifle the giggles.

"Now, look here!" he snapped. "I saved her life – she should be glad to be a blockhead! Still gets that love life with Elton, doesn't she? You need to stop questioning my amazing genius, Martha Jones – it's just not very –"

"Blockhead?" she asked, snorting, and she could practically hear him deflate.

"Well, you got 'head cold'…" he mumbled, and she threw a hand over her mouth to keep the noodles from shooting out as she laughed. The laughter quickly died into a coughing fit, and again she could hear his grin through the phone. "Careful now, Martha – don't choke."

"I'm hanging up now before your bad puns kill me," she said, her lips twitched in a grin. He mumbled a 'yeah, yeah – whatever' at her before she clicked off, and with another smile she put the phone back on its slot by the kitchen door.

"Brilliant brains my foot," she said, shaking her head. "Egomaniac…"

**A.n.:** _Thememunity whore? Who's a thememunity whore? Certainly not! xP (Ok, yeah…I totally am…) I was gonna wait a bit until I was more into S3 and knew Martha a bit better, but I got this idea and it was just too tempting. I love "Love & Monsters" (it's one of my favorite eps – it's just so random it's brilliant!), and I'm really surprised it's taken me this long to bring it into one of these thememunity ficlets._

_Anyway, yeah. Basically I just wanted a chance to work with Martha a bit more, so I took on this challenge. And for those who are curious…yes, I do intend to do the bonus themes. C'mon, guys…thirty-four is "Empty the pocket" – how could I _not_ do that? xD_


	2. Frequent Flyers' Privilege

**Title:** "Frequent Flyers' Privilege"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Martha Jones

**Challenge:** 30 Smiles

**Theme / Prompt:** #14 (What did you say?)

**Word Count:** 1,425

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** Martha wasn't too sure she liked the look dancing through the girl's eyes; it was a bit too mischievous.

**Notes:** Post-DRose reunion.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Frequent Flyers' Privilege"**_

Martha had been traveling with the Doctor for a good two years now (well, almost two), so she was used to the part of the adventures where she sat in a jail cell and waited to be rescued. She was ok with sitting on a gravelly floor next to rusty bars, counting down the minutes until the Doctor burst in, soniced the door open, and raced with her back to the TARDIS with angry guards nipping at their heels. It was just part of the packaged deal, as trouble seemed to be his shadow.

What she wasn't used to was the blonde sitting on the ledge on the other wall, anxiously bouncing her foot on her knee. Her arms were crossed, and she was staring at the ceiling in annoyance. She hadn't said much to Martha since they had been captured an hour earlier, but Martha didn't mind much – she was still getting used to the girl, frankly.

To be perfectly honest, Martha wasn't quite sure how to deal with the girl known as Rose Tyler. She had spent a year living in her shadow, loving a man still so horribly fixated on her he never quite saw her for her most times. She had left for a bit and had come back stronger and generally over what she told herself was just a crush, but she couldn't deny the slight flutterings of her stomach every time his hand had grasped hers. She had continued traveling with him and Donna for another half a year, until Donna had left and they had stumbled into Mickey Smith, an old acquaintance of the Doctor's (one that apparently shouldn't have been able to be in the universe). A few adventures with Mickey led to the girl across from her, Rose Tyler – age 25, executive Torchwood, Defender of the Earth.

She was friendly enough, but Martha just couldn't bring herself to fully accept her – not yet. It wasn't quite that she was jealous; she was actually off-and-on with Jack, and she was glad the Doctor was with her again – he was happier now. Maybe it was a partial jealousy, but when it came down to it she just didn't know how to respond to Rose. The girl had been built up so high, first by the Doctor and then Jack and finally Mickey, that she saw her as a titan, a living legend among men. It was just a bit hard to approach her after all she had heard; she really didn't want to come off a blithering idiot before her.

"So…" Rose finally said, and she looked at her with a raised brow. "Bet you five quid he's gotten himself captured, lost, or is so busy tinkering he hasn't even noticed we've gone yet."

Martha blinked for a moment, but when her words sunk in she had to smile. She shrugged and said, "Honestly? My money's on the last one."

Rose looked at her, grinning. She looked out the small window, where the sky outside was slowly turning the deep green of the planet's night. The outline of the double moons was slowly fading into existence, and the sound of night life was just starting to drift in past the bars. She sighed and plopped her head back against the wall.

"Wish he would've given me the screwdriver," she said. "Or just get me my own already. At least then I could try to resonate the concrete. Doesn't really work, but it'd still be something to do."

"Resonate the concrete?" Martha asked, quirking a brow. Rose turned and grinned at her.

"Trapped in a basement while running from gasmask zombies. The Doctor tried to resonate the concrete with the screwdriver so we could escape, but it didn't work. Jack ended up teleporting us out," she said, and Martha shook her head at the tale.

"The Doctor actually broke the screwdriver the first time I met him," she said. Rose's eyebrows soared at that, and she nodded. "Trying to run from alien rhinos and fetishists and he's busy crying over a burnt up screwdriver."

"He loves that thing, though," she said, and Martha nodded.

"S'what he says, yeah," she said, and Rose grinned. Martha wasn't too sure she liked the look dancing through the girl's eyes; it was a bit too mischievous.

"Running from alien rhinos, you said?" she asked, and Martha nodded. She shrugged slightly, looking to the bars of their cell. "I got trapped in a hospital with evil cat people – while being possessed by a bitchy trampoline."

"Trapped in a car flying above hundreds of giant crabs," Martha said, smirking. Rose looked back at her, her eyes sparking with a determined light as a smirk of her own curved her lips.

"Trapped in the cabinet room on Downing Street with Slitheen trying to nuke the world," she said, and Martha shrugged.

"Trapped on a cargo ship while it fell towards a living sun," she said, and Rose leaned forwards, nodding.

"Captured by a fleet of Daleks," she said.

"Run in with human-Dalek hybrids," Martha replied.

"Had a séance with Charles Dickens," Rose shot back.

"Performed the end of a play with Shakespeare," Martha said, "and then was chased out of the Globe by Queen Elizabeth's guards."

"Banished from England by Queen Victoria one hundred and seven years before I was born," Rose said. She looked thoughtful for a moment before grinning. "Been to the end of the world."

"End of the universe," Martha said matter-of-factly. Rose frowned.

"Met the mind of Satan," she said after a moment, and Martha smirked as she leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Lived with Donna Noble, Satan incarnate," she said, and Rose stared at her for a moment before laughing. She shook her head and pointed at her.

"Raised by Jackie Tyler, and the Doctor's already officially named her the devil herself," she said, and Martha laughed.

"All right, then – my mum's slapped the Doctor," she said. Rose took on a haughty look and held up both hands, eight fingers raised.

"My mum was the first to slap him – and she's done so eight times," she said. She looked thoughtful for a minute before smirking. "And she's kissed him – locked himself in the bathroom for an hour after that one scrubbing his mouth raw."

"Saved the world by getting people to believe in the Doctor," Martha said, and Rose shrugged.

"Saved the world by absorbing the time vortex," she said, and Martha let out a breath as she racked her mind for something – anything – to top her. She shot her a look and jabbed a finger Rose's way.

"Got the Doctor to fix the washer!" she declared, and Rose paused, giving her a flabbergasted look.

"Seriously?" she asked, and Martha nodded. "How did you manage that? I was on him for ages about it!"

"Mum slapped him and he said he didn't want me going 'round her place to get my wash done, even though I've got a washer at my flat," she said. Rose laughed and shook her head, smiling at Martha.

"Well, you would've thought he'd have fixed it long before then, since every time I needed to do the wash we had to go see my mum. And he hates my mum," she said. Martha just smiled, but it was replaced moments later by a frown as she looked at Rose.

"What started the one-upping, anyway?" she asked, and Rose shrugged.

"Dunno – needed something to do to pass the time," she said. She then grinned. "Besides, it's like a rite of passage for the Doctor's companions. Have a pissing contest with a previous companion."

"Just another of his frequent flyers' privileges, then?" Martha asked, laughing. "Like the universal roaming and a TARDIS key?"

"Superphones come standard – keys are if he really likes you," Rose said, nodding. "Frequent flyers' privileges…maybe. Yeah, I guess it is. Obligatory pissing contest. I lost mine to Sarah Jane Smith and the Loch Ness monster."

"So after two years I'm finally initiated," Martha said, and Rose smiled at her.

"Welcome to Team TARDIS, Martha Jones," she said. She looked back at the sky, which was now a near-black shade of emerald, and sighed. "So…about that bet. You say he's just not noticed?"

"Yeah," Martha said, nodding. Rose bobbed her head in quick agreement.

"Right – I say he's captured. Five quid to whoever's right," she said. Martha grinned, finally feeling a bit more like Rose was just any other girl she could have met on the street.

"You're on."

**A.n.:**_ I'm not too happy with this one – the idea seemed a lot better in my head. Idea thieves? Please ravage this one – I know someone else can do it justice! That being said…yeah, I think I'm going for a no-Rose, tissue boxer next time. Maybe. Dunno…_


	3. This is Me, Getting Out

**Title:** "This is Me, Getting Out"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Martha Jones

**Challenge:** 30 Smiles

**Theme / Prompt:** #23 (Weak Heart)

**Word Count:** 1,098

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** Jack said that the Doctor has a way of unlocking the you you're supposed to be, but that's not how it worked. Not for me, at least.

**Notes:** Post-S3, just after Martha leaves the Doctor. First person POV.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

_** "**__**This is Me, Getting Out**__**"**_

I've had a lot of time to think about things since leaving the Doctor – since before leaving him, really, during that year that never was. I've had a lot of time to talk to Jack since coming to work for Torchwood. And with all this talking and thinking, I've realized something I missed in my year with the Doctor – but then again, I think I missed a lot of things that year.

Jack told me about his time with the Doctor and how much he changed – how much he grew – from it. He said it was like finding himself, finding a home. He said it was one of the best times he ever had, and he never regretted it. I don't think I ever will, either.

Jack said that when you travel with the Doctor, he has a way of unlocking whatever's trapped inside you – of making you become the you you're supposed to be. It's part of that 'finding yourself' bit he mentioned – but I know that's not how it worked. Not for me, at least.

See, I had already found myself. I knew who I was, where I was going, what I was capable of – the works. I was Martha Jones, soon-to-be Dr. Martha Jones, and I knew exactly who she was. I had my life together, even if my family was falling apart. Maybe that was why I was so eager to go with him – to escape the insanity of Dad's girlfriend and Mum's anger.

But that's where it all happened, you see. I went with him for his 'one trip', and 'one trip' became two, and two became three – until finally I shoved my way onboard for good, or at least what I thought was for good. But…no, it happened before that. With that 'genetic transfer' – well, he can 'genetic transfer' all he likes; it was still a kiss in my book. He kissed me – _kissed_ me – and that was it. He became a guy that could take me away from my exploding family, and I latched onto him – to that idea.

He kissed me, and in that one moment I lost Martha Jones, the soon-to-be Dr. Martha Jones who knew exactly who and what she was.

I spent a year traveling with him, going around as a Martha Jones who had no idea who she was past the infatuation she had for this amazing madman. I lost myself, but I didn't care. I had the Doctor, and I was happy with that.

But I didn't really have him, did I? _She_ did. And I wonder sometimes if he even realized it, 'cause he never tried to hide it. The first thing he told me when I stepped onto that ship of his was "You're not replacing her!", and I should've realized then that she had never really left in the first place. She had never left any room for me to replace her in – not in his mind, not really. 'Cause he loved her, like I loved him – or maybe more.

'Cause that's the thing, isn't it? He loved – sorry, _loves_ – her so much that he can't let her go. Can't move on. Couldn't really look at me and just see _me_. I love him, yeah, but not enough to hold on. Or maybe I'm just not strong enough to hold onto something I know I can never have. Not anymore, at least.

I was strong. Back before I met him. And then he came in and swooped me away in a whirlwind of adventure and it was brilliant, yeah, but it made me forget. He made me forget, and the terrifying part is I let him. I was so mad about him that I waved that Martha Jones off with a shove and a smile, and I didn't even care.

But I learned a lot in that year that never was. I remembered a lot. I remembered who I was, and I found a way to be her again – to be Martha Jones, the now-Dr. Martha Jones. I found a way to be strong again, and I think maybe…in a way, maybe that means I do love him as much as he loves her. Because I got out. I loved him enough to get out, to leave him for her.

He told Jack she was trapped in a parallel world. Well, maybe she is now – but I saw it, how much he loves her. I saw it in his eyes every time he'd look at me and see her, heard it in his voice every time he said her name, felt it in his hugs every time he'd let himself forget I was Martha. And I think…if I love him enough to leave, he loves her enough to go get her. He'll find a way, one of these days. 'Cause he's the Doctor, and that's what he does.

And I'm Martha Jones, and this is what I do. I live. I'm strong. I help people. I do my job, working right alongside Dr. Owen Harper in Torchwood (sometimes over him, when he's really annoyed Jack), and I'm good at it. I'm Dr. Martha Jones, and I saved the world – even if they don't remember it.

I got out – out of the Doctor's magical world of time travel and running for our lives – and maybe it was the best thing I could have done for myself. Because now I can be me again, and he can go back to looking for who really made him happy. I will say, though…sometimes I think I can't get over the whole "doctor" idea. Because I love him, but I've realized I can love other people, too. People like Dr. Tom Milligan. And he may have an A&E instead of a blue box that's bigger on the inside, but maybe that's what I need to get my head away from the Doctor – a nice normal doctor with normal patients in a normal hospital, right here in good old London town on normal Earth.

And really…Harold Saxon – the Master – was evil, yeah. My family hates him. A part of me hates him, too, for what he put the Earth through – even if they don't remember. But there was one good thing he did, one good thing for me and the Doctor. He took me away, forcing me to travel a year around the world on my own. And I found Martha again.

And I may not be the 'Defender of the Earth' – not like Jack, not like her – but I am Dr. Martha Jones.

And I am good.

**A.n.: **_Ok, so I gotta say…I kinda lost inspiration with this while going through S3 on SciFi. After the Lazarus Experiment, she changed, and she seriously ticked me off. BUT…come LotTL, she was back to the Martha we saw in S&J and SC, and I was so happy – and this? My reasoning behind it, because I think she did lose herself when she was traveling with him. But that year on her own forced her to "grow up", if you will – forced her to get back to who she was pre-Doctor, and then the Martha I love came back out and I was just so happy I squealed through the whole thing (and please please please RTD, don't cock her up in TW/S4; I like this Martha, and now that she's back you have to keep her!). (Though boo on you, SciFi, for cutting off the end bits in LotTL where she sees Dr. Docherty/calls Tom!__ Dx_

_Gist of that long note: I'm sorry I've ignored this for so long, but now that my Martha's back the plunnies are biting again, so hopefully I won't be as uninspired with these anymore._


	4. Soap and Toothpaste and Home

**Title:** "Soap and Toothpaste and Home"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Martha Jones (Tom Milligan x Martha Jones)

**Challenge:** 30 Smiles

**Theme / Prompt:** #09 (Floral scent; Musk; Citric scent)

**Word Count:** 652

**Rating:** T / PG-13

**Summary:** It doesn't smell familiar and safe and _home_, but she supposes that's why it's death.

**Notes:** During Martha's bit between Torchwood and her return to Who. Speculation on her relationship, based on my personal ship 'n rumors based on pictures/press releases. Spoilers for end of S3.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

_** "**__**Soap and Toothpaste and Home**__**"**_

She wants to say she doesn't know what death smells like, but she spent a year walking around the Earth and smelling nothing but. She's a doctor, and she's worked in the A&E and burn unit and she's felt it, tasted it, smelt it – lived it. She knows what it smells like when your skin's so badly charred they have to remove the limb, what it smells like when bodies have been left in the street for days and weeks because everyone else is too scared to move them – too scared they'll receive the same fate. She knows death, and she wishes every day she didn't.

It doesn't smell like this, the musky scent of his aftershave pillowed around her as she curls into his chest and tries again to chase away the demons. It doesn't smell familiar and safe and _home_, but she supposes that's why it's death. He smells alive, and she takes comfort in that. Soap and toothpaste and aftershave – aftershave he can only wear for her, just in case someone at the hospital where he works has an allergy. The smell will be gone by the morning, after he's washed and dressed for another day of work, and when she kisses him goodbye as she heads off for Torchwood he won't smell like this. But he'll still smell of soap and toothpaste (vanilla mint tonight; he's used hers again because it reminds him of her kisses), still smell of home.

And she'll focus on that as she goes to her day of defending the Earth, because it's still too easy to recall a time where he smelt of char and fire and burns. Where he didn't smell like soap and toothpaste and home.

"You died for me once," she tells him, and he's learned by now that the question isn't "Why?" – it's "How?" He had died for her – he believes her on that – and he knows he would do it again. It doesn't matter that he's not dead now; she works with things he has trouble believing all the time.

"A madman took over the world, and the Doctor sent me away while he was taken prisoner. I walked the globe to save him, and I met you, and then the madman found me. He killed you to get to me," she says, and he stays silent because he doesn't quite know what to say to that. So he holds her tighter, holds her closer as she cries into his chest. Because it's not every night, but sometimes….sometimes she remembers things, things he doesn't. And they chase her in the night, gnawing at her as demons he doesn't know how to chase away.

Not every night, but nights like tonight, when he's come home with the smell of hospitals and sickness still clinging to his skin. When he's had a patient he couldn't save, and then she's distant and back in a war he can't remember, clinging to him as she sees his body lying face-down in the dirty street. She couldn't smell the singed flesh on him then, but she knew it well enough from so many others that it hadn't been hard to imagine.

So she pulls him closer, and he lets her, because she's so strong all the rest of the time he wants to give her this. He wants her to know she can break down with him, that maybe sometimes it's ok if she can't be Martha Jones, the woman who once saved the world. That maybe sometimes it's best to be Martha Milligan, and maybe Martha Milligan can let him be strong for her.

Because she doesn't know it, but he can smell death, too. And he likes her familiar scent of oranges and honey and toothpaste and _home_ just as much as she likes his aftershave and soap and toothpaste and _home_.

But really…the part they like best is the home.


End file.
